by Jaclyn Weist
“You guys aren’t going to make me miss my date, are you?” Or my chance to go shopping for it. We should have just gone two days ago when I was asked.
“That depends on how quickly this can be resolved.” The man turned and smiled. “I’m Lawrence by the way. This is Evan.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away. Hopefully Heather and Max had been able to finish Ethan’s room before he got home from practice. It was a good thing she’d decided to answer him this way because I wasn’t sure when I was actually going to be able to do my newspaper article again.
“Are you guys keeping me from school on Monday?”
They exchanged glances. Lawrence finally nodded. “Probably. We have no way to secure an area that big.”
I grumbled. “Can I at least do my newspaper article? The email address I use can’t be traced back to me.”
“Anything can be traced.”
“Look. I’ve been putting out the column a few days a week. If it suddenly disappeared, people would wonder what’s up. If we’re trying to keep a low profile, don’t you think it should keep going?”
Mom put a hand on mine. “Sweetie, don’t talk to them like that. They’re just trying to—”
“Help. I know. And I’m trying to keep my project from imploding. We have one week to the dance. I can’t just let it go now.”
Lawrence turned to face me. “We’ll see what we can do.”
That didn’t reassure me, but it was the best I was going to get at the moment. I leaned back and watched the familiar stores and homes slide away to the other side of the city that I didn’t know as well. The home they pulled the car into was small, but it was well kept and looked brand new.
We went in through the garage and I stopped in awe. Everything was upgraded, with state-of-the-art computers and other gadgets. A few more men sat around a table talking over their laptops.
I was shown to my room where a new laptop sat at a desk. When I tried to look out the windows, I was met with a black screen. “Don’t you think people will find it suspicious that our windows are blacked out?”
“They’re screens. Anyone outside will see a regular window to a new build. You can see whatever it is you want. The beach, New York City—”
“My old neighborhood.” I flopped onto the bed and sighed. Okay, I could handle this bed. Maybe they’d let me take the mattress home with me when this was done.
Evan reached for my computer, but I got it first. “You can’t use that. It’s a risk.”
“And I don’t want you touching my stuff.” I went to the closet and put it up at the top. “There. It’s gone.”
Evan frowned. “Very well. Just don’t pull it out. We don’t know if your laptop or phone has been bugged.”
I pointed at the new phone on my bed. “I suppose I can’t text my friends from that one?”
“Your friends are in the process of getting new phones as well. Once we know it’s secure, you can contact them.” Evan went to the door and stopped. “We’re not trying to ruin your life. We’re trying to save it. The men at the table have ensured that your email address for the paper is safe. Only send emails to your teacher. It’s the only one we’ve gone through so far. Understand?”
I nodded. “And school?”
“You have a case of the flu and will return as soon as you’re feeling better.” Evan left my room.
Well, that wasn’t how my day was supposed to go. I rubbed my cheek again where Max had kissed it. Just hours ago, he was angry with me for not telling him what was going on in my life. And now this. He had to have been pretty scared to kiss me like that.
I grabbed the remote next to my bed and turned it on. The screens along my windows turned on. He wasn’t kidding. I flipped through several different options they had for my outside scenery. I stopped in surprise when I found the view from my window at home.
A text came in.
We called in a favor, and the guys protecting your house provided this. Don’t abuse it. ~Agent Williams
I wasn’t sure who Agent Williams was, but I wanted to hug him. I grabbed my backpack off the floor and pulled my headphones out of it, then went to the new laptop. It was much faster than my old one, probably because it wasn’t bogged down with all the books I’d been writing.
A few new emails had come into the Cupid email box, so I went through them. I was a little annoyed I had to start over with the formatting, but I’d done it enough that I had a new one put together pretty quickly.
The last email was from the secret admirer and I moved to click on it. I hesitated. We didn’t know who it was coming from. And with Dad in trouble . . . I wrote down the email address and went out to the kitchen.
“Think you guys could do something for me?”
Lawrence smiled. “Depends on what it is. What’s up?”
I set the note with the email address down on the table. “Could you trace that? They’ve been sending these . . . secret admirer messages to my school account and I want to make sure they’re legit.”
Instant alert from everyone. I probably could have said my phone had a strange ticking noise and had less of a reaction than this.
“How long has this been going on?”
I shrugged. “A few weeks? Ever since I started the column.”
“So, before your dad got back?” There was the slightest hint of relief in Lawrence’s shoulders.
I nodded. “The messages are sweet. Wanting to ask someone to the dance, but it’s always marked anonymous.”
“Have you ever tried responding to figure out who it is?”
That seemed like the obvious response, right? I shook my head. “I figured if they wanted me to know who they were, they would have told me.”
Evan rubbed his hand over his face. “Which is exactly why it’s so dangerous. Don’t respond to this latest email either. We’ll see what we can find. Thank you for telling us about it.”
“Sure.” I hesitated. “You’re not going to arrest whoever it is, are you?”
“That depends on who it is.”
Not the answer I wanted.
Know what’s worse than having to stay home with the flu? Having to stay home with the pretend flu because you’re in protective custody.
They’d provided any snack or food I could have possibly wanted, and the tv access was unbelievable, but this was the longest I’d been away from Max or Heather for, well, ever.
Brandon probably thought I hated him by now since I had no way to contact him. Supposedly it had been passed along that I was sick, but even sick people could respond to texts or phone calls.
I stared at my computer screen, urging any emails to come in. The last column had been put out two days before. Apparently everyone was done asking people to the dance, but what made me sad was that the secret admirer emails had stopped as well.
A soft knock came at my door and Mom entered with a tray of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. “I thought you could use a little cheering up. You haven’t really left your room for two days.”
“I’m supposed to be getting my dress for a dance or figuring out what to do with my hair or finding Max a date. This isn’t cool.” I stared down at the soup she’d set in front of me. “How long is this going to last?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” She gestured to my laptop. “Still nothing, huh?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I assume they haven’t tracked the email address down?”
“Oh, they have. They did that first night. These guys are good, remember?” She sat on the edge of my bed.
“And?” I turned away from the desk. “What’d they say?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Only that they’d isolated it and were checking into the person responsible.”
I jumped up. “They’re investigating one of my classmates?”
“Sweetie, we don’t even know if that’s who was sending them. What your dad is doing—who he’s going after—would send emails just like this.”
“What do you mean?”
&
nbsp; Evan pushed the door open to the room. “What she means is that anyone could pose as a high school student just to get them out of the house and into their car. They sound smooth and drool-worthy, but end up being one of the traffickers we’ve been looking for.”
I blinked. Traffickers? That’s who my dad had been going after? I’d heard about them. Slimeballs who sold people for awful reasons, but that was in the news. A long way away from me. “No. I don’t believe it.”
Mom glared at Evan. “She didn’t need to know that.”
I whipped around. “You knew?”
“Not until they showed up at our doorstep. I knew what he was doing was dangerous, but that was about it.” Mom stood and tried to give me a hug, but I stepped away.
“You guys have to be joking. My dad was supposed to be a tech guy. Someone that people wanted to have working for them on their computery things. Not some guy who saves the world.” My dad was a real-life hero and they’d been keeping it from me.
“Sweetie—”
“No. Get out. I just . . . I need to process.” I hid my face in my hands until the door shut.
The sweet messages from the secret admirer were supposed to be suspicious, but I couldn’t help defending whoever it was that had sent them. I ran through each one again, wishing I could see if the person sending really was dangerous or not. But words hid a lot. Emotion, intent.
Surely they were wrong. This person wasn’t one of those people. My finger hovered over the reply button before clicking it.
I still hesitated to respond, but typed before I lost my nerve.
Who are you?
Three words. That was it. I hit send and waited for a reply. Moments later, the email bounced back. The account was no longer active. It must have gotten shut down as soon as I asked about it.
Great.
I turned on yet another show that I didn’t really care about, so I’d have something to do while I ate my lunch. My phone buzzed, and a number I vaguely recognized popped up on the screen.
Max and Heather told me you got a new phone. Is everything okay? ~ Brandon.
How had they known that? I didn’t even know they knew the other number. I hesitated before answering back.
Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry for not getting back to you.
It’s fine. I’m just worried about you. School isn’t the same, and math is trying to kill me.
I grinned. That was totally Brandon.
I’m sure you’ll do fine. Listen, I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the dance.
That’s what Max told me. You’re sure you’re not feeling up to it?
He must have been told I had the flu. Of course, I was feeling up to it, I was just stuck on house arrest for something my dad did.
I wish. I’ll let you know if I start feeling better. I need to get some rest. Talk to you tomorrow?
Sure. Feel better.
I started a group text with Max and Heather. Did you guys tell Brandon I was sick?
It was another twenty minutes before either of them responded. Max was first.
Heather let it slip accidentally. I was half-expecting to have the school flooded with agents. Everything okay there?
I sighed. Heather. I should have known she wouldn’t be able to keep it secret. Instead of being mad, I was actually thrilled. It was the first interaction outside of the house I’d had in a couple of days.
Heather responded next. Hey, it wasn’t my fault he was right by us when I said something. But at least I covered it up with the flu story. So, when are you coming back?
I don’t know. They’re not finding anything. I’m going crazy, though. I wanted to tell them what I’d found out about Dad, but I knew that was definitely stepping out of line. They’d have to find out later.
I’d better go. I’m not sure they’ll like me talking to anyone yet. Love you guys. Please don’t let Brandon ask someone else!
I won’t. Not sure about Max. Love you too.
I waited for a response from Max, but it didn’t come. Kinda like every other time we talked about the dance. He’d reply on his own time. Besides, he was most likely in chemistry at the time, which meant he couldn’t talk.
That’s what I told myself anyway.
The day of the dance came, and I spent the day sprawled out on my bed. Heather sent me pictures of her and Ethan together, Max showed a picture of him with some cute girl named Heidi, and they both sent pictures of Brandon with Ellie. Ellie. Supposedly she’d asked him, but still.
I wandered out of my room to shower and change so I wasn’t a complete disaster, then went to find Mom. She was making lasagna—a meal she only cooked when she knew I was depressed—and looked up.
“There you are. I was sure you’d spend the whole day in your room.”
“I wanted to, but alas, body odor can only be handled for so long.” I sat at the counter. “Want some help?”
She shook her head. “I’m pretty much done. It just needs to go in the oven.”
I nodded toward the table where there were typically five or six guys sitting playing cards or talking on their radios. “Where’d everyone go?”
“Change of shift. The others will be here in about five minutes.” Mom set the pan in the oven and moved on to making the garlic bread.
I frowned. “The old people leave before the new ones come in? That’s weird.”
She shrugged. “Not usually, but something is going on. Apparently it’s good or they wouldn’t have left us.”
“Seriously?” A flutter of hope blossomed. “Do you think Dad’s okay?”
“I think I’d know if something bad had happened, and everything seems fine.” She slathered more garlic butter on the bread.
Mom and her feelings. She was always sure she knew if something was happening. Ninety percent of the time she was right. I just prayed she was this time.
The door opened, and several men filed in holding a man between them. He had his hair slicked back with a stylish beard and an earring. But his eyes were ones I knew well.
“Daddy?”
Mom dropped the brush and threw her apron off as she ran toward him. “You’re safe.”
Apparently her feelings didn’t tell her he’d been standing outside the door. Or that he would look like a gangster.
Dad looked over Mom’s head at me. “I’m sorry I ruined your dance.”
“Are you kidding me? This is way better.” I threw myself at him, content to share the hug with my mom. We were back together.
Lawrence cleared his throat. “We aren’t out of the woods yet. Your dad managed to get everyone in the ring busted, but one of them escaped. Stay here. Turn all of your electronics off and stay together in the safe room.”
I looked up at Mom. “Safe room?”
“Come on.” She kept her arm around Dad’s waist and took me in with the other arm. We went to a room that I’d been sure was just a closet—I mean, our vacuum and coats sat inside—and continued through to a small, dimly lit room.
It was just big enough to hold food, a couple of couches, and three people. A rolling sound followed by a large clank came from the door. We were sealed in.
I didn’t care. I climbed onto the couch next to Dad and wrapped my arms around him, like I’d done since I was little. “I was so scared for you.”
He kissed my head. “I was too, cupcake. This last week was the worst, knowing I’d put you two in danger.”
Mom patted him on the shoulder. “I knew you were okay.”
“Mom’s feelings again.”
“Ah.”
I sat up. “So how did you catch them?”
He shook his head. “You don’t want to know, and I don’t want to tell you. But hopefully the last guy is where we think he is so we can be done. I’m just sorry I put you guys in danger.”
I shrugged. “We’ve been okay. I get whatever snack I want, whatever show I want to watch, and I can make my windows look like the beach if I want. The only thing that’s actually in danger is my social l
ife.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “She makes it sound so glamorous, but guess who actually showered five minutes before you got home.”
Dad chuckled. “Sounds about right.”
“Oh, check it out. Heather and Max sent pictures.” I pulled the phone out of my pocket. I pulled the pictures up that my friends had sent.
“You were supposed to turn this off.” Dad frowned and took it from me.
I shrugged. “I didn’t have a chance to. Besides, there are no bars. Nothing can get in or out anyway.”
“You’d be surprised.” He looked through the pictures and frowned. “Wait, Max went with someone else?” He turned off the phone and handed it to me.
“Yeah, why?” I got up and set it on the table, then grabbed a bag of chips. “He broke up with Anna, so he couldn’t exactly take her.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I figured he was going to take you.”
I snorted. “Why?”
“Didn’t they tell you who the emails were from?”
The world seemed to stop. I looked at my dad with his slicked back hair and face I almost didn’t recognize and tried to breathe. I shook my head, but my heart knew what he was going to say before he finally spoke them.
“Apparently you were right to think the secret admirer was for you. The person sending those emails was Max.”
He was wrong. He had to be wrong. They were from some person who was too shy to ask someone in person. Someone who was good with poetry. Someone who really wanted the person to know he liked them.
Which easily could have been Max.
I paced the very small floor, muttering to myself.
“Does she do this often?” Dad whispered.
“Only when her mind is blown.” Mom stood and took me by the shoulders. “Surely you’ve seen how he looks at you.”
